A Spy's Story
by AlbertaRose
Summary: A look into the life of one Natasha Romanoff. I mean it with the M Rating. What she went through to become the Avenger she is. Companion to An Archer's Tale.
1. Chapter 1

Note, I have not read the comics, or studied the character outside the recent Avengers movie. I just have a huge lady crush on her, and am being creative with her backstory. For all those who would take offense at the fact that I am not from the comic universe, stick it in your pipe and smoke it.

I do not own anything from the Marvel Universe except a Captain America coffee mug. And the cold coffee it contains, if that counts.

Chapter 1

A first mission was a very big deal in the Red Room. Natalia was only six, but she was going to prove that she could do her job. It was essential. It was the only way she would live to sleep in her bed that night.

There was a doctor to be lured. She was to run to his house, through the frozen street of St. Petersburg, and find him, then lure him back to the assassin's house. Natalia had watched several young girls, only a few months older than her try such a mission. This assassin, she knew, did not like hunting her targets, and so let that job go to lower minions such as herself. The other young girls Natalia had watched, some succeeded, and joined her in the dorm that night, with cold eyes at seeing someone murdered in front of them. The others, the ones that had failed at their mission, that had given the assassin away, that had tried to run away, they never came back. And Natalia, though young was not delusional enough to think they had gone back to their families.

Though still tiny, most of her training so far had been with languages. She could speak French, English, Mandarin, Arabic and German quite well, plus Russian of course. She had been doing a lot of running and lifting things, what ever The Master had asked of her. She had been taught by older girls how to move silently, how to climb, to balance, to pass unseen.

And she was going to prove she was good enough to live.

Dressed in a ragged coat that did nothing to slow the wind against her skin, she ran through the street. According to the handler, she was to head to the market, above a potatoe seller, there would be a small flat. Her breath catching in her chest, she ran and ran and ran, until she reached the market. The potatoe seller was easy to find. His stalls were empty. She snuck quickly up the stairs and began to bang on the door.

She banged for a solid three minutes, before a man, bleary-eyed and foul smelling opened the door. He looked left and right, before looking down and spotting Natalia.

« What do you want. » he growled at her, clearly about to slam the door shut. His breath smelled of vodka, and his unshaven face made Natalia want to back away. But she didn't. She wanted to sleep in her bed tonight, not in a grave. She stepped up to the door, so he could not close it without moving her out of the way first.

« My sister is ill. » she said in a small voice, putting a look of worry on her face. « She will lose her job if she does not go to work, but she cannot move. Please help. »

The man took stock of her again. She knew she was small for her age, but her red hair made her stand out a bit. Her eyes were green and looking up pleadingly. As he watched her, she pulled several ruble notes the handler had given her.

Nodding once, the man opened the door and let her in.

« Wait a moment, and we will go. »

She looked carefully around the one room appartment. It was the second part of her mission. She needed to observe all the weapons the doctor might bring with him, and which ones he had at his place. She spotted a gun in the dresser, and a knife on the bedside table. The doctor, however, believed her story. He did not take either with him, instead putting medicine and a few other doctor's tools into a small black bag, grabbing a shirt and shrugging into a coat.

Natalia handed him the rubles as he held his hand out for them. He put them in his pocket. Then he opened the door and were on their way.

Natalia could not run as fast now, or he would lose her. She jogged, and he followed, huffing and puffing. She could tell he was out of shape. They made their way back to the house Natalia had left from. She opened the door and waited for him to pass, before closing it, and leading him upstairs.

Lying in a bed, moaning as though she was really sick, was the assassin known as Illness. She could fake a fever to get men to come check up on her, and then she killed them. Natalia was to watch. The Master had been crystal clear about that.

The doctor bent and openned his bag. He began poking and prodding her, listening with a stethescope and taking her temperature. He was turning to Natalia, started asking about some hot water when it happened. Illness reached up, her fingers found a spot just below his throat and before he could even finish his sentence, he was unconcious on the floor. Illness glanced at Natalia.

« Don't look away. » she said.

Illness straigtened, wiping her brow, and shaking off her pretend sickness. She turned to a dresser, and pulled out several knives and a set of handcuffs. She tied the doctor to the single chair of the room, and laid out her knives on the scrub wooden table, and without hurry, began cleaning them.

She cleaned for several long moments before the doctor came to. He tried to move and pulled at his restraints, before jerking his head up and staring at Illness with horror.

« I am certain you know why you are here. » Illness said in a cool, dangerous voice.

« What exactly do you want? » he said, his voice betraying his fear, like a mouse is terrified of a cat.

« The whereabouts of a certain blond child, and her mother. I believe you know them. They are your wife and daughter. And they are needed. »

« I won't tell. Never... »

« Pity. »

For the next half an hour, Natalia watched as the man screamed. First he lost a finger. Natalia watched as red blood flowed from the wound, fascinating her. This was not blood turned brown from drying, but red blood, fresh with a distictive smell to it. Then he lost a toe. The red began spreading across the floor towards Natalia. It shined in the light, and moved sluggishly across the dirty floor boards. When he still would not talk, Illness had pulled off his pants and began cutting him along his thighs, before chopping off one testicle at a time. The bits of mutilated flesh joined the others on the table, and Natalia noticed there wasn't much difference between them once they were off. Illness continued to stalk her prey, walking in circles, and playing on his fears. Natalia had never seen anything like it, but she watched and learnt, storing every piece of Illness's techniques for future use. The man spoke just before the assassin could cut off his most precious appendage.

« They are in Siberia. North of Kemerovo in a small shack, two miles off the main road! » he screamed in pain again, and Illness gave a smile.

« I will be sure to send them your love. » She took another knife and slit his throat. Blood spurted from the wound, but Natalia did not look away. She watched as it joined the blood on the floor, all one color, even if one part had only been torture and the other had been death. Blood was blood. It was red when fresh and brown when dried and smelled of metal.

Illness wiped off her knives before calling to Natalia. She handed the small girl the knife that had ended the poor doctor's life.

« The handler is downstairs. Tell him to come clean up. »

Natalia did as she was told, and was led back to her bedroom by another handler. She had done what the others had done. She had survived.

Several weeks later, a new arrival entered the training room where Natalia was learning to use the knife Illness had given her. She had blond hair and a terrified look in her eyes.

The girl did not last two weeks before she too was killed.

Natalia went back to her knife fighting excercise.

Natalia Romanova had very few memories from her early life. As far back as she could remember, she had been training. She had been obeying the Master and she had been fighting to stay alive. It was all she knew, even though she was only seven years old. The Master, that is the only name he was allowed to be called. She was one of his Daughters. He had a lot of them, Daughters like her. She did not think that he was her father. But she was his Daughter. He was a large man, though not as big as some of the handlers he had employed. He had dark eyes, black to most, but Natalia knew they were actually dark green. And a beard. It tickled when ever he leant in close to breath down her neck as she trained. He always wore a suit, and it was always clean, even if the people around him were covered in blood and dirt. His voice was one that Natalia hated and loved. It was deep and gravely, and depending on the time, it was either a mercy, or a death sentence.

The Master often had clients. She was never supposed to look at them, but they were intriguing, as they were the only people from outside the center she had ever seen. They varied greatly; men, women, black, asian, caucasian, tall, short, and everything in between. They would often look over every single girl there, and sometimes, they would take one of the older ones with them. Sometime they would ask to see their skills, and the Master always obliged, showing them what his Daughters could do.

The Master only ever told her once about her past. Well, not told her exactly. He had been bragging to some possible clients about his abilities of obtaining girls to train. It was what happened in the training room. He bragged a lot.

« I found her in St. Petersbourg. Such potential I have never seen. She obeyed her mother like a dog obeys his master. I knew she would be a good one for the academy. » She wondered if this was what an academy was. It must have been. She did a tumble and pulled her knife, attacking an invisible opponent.

« I always find it easier to remove the parents from the girl's life. It takes away any hope and gives them nothing to live for but me, making them utterly loyal to only one person. This one was by fire. It seemed right with her hair. The house in flames, I saved her from it. Parents dead, and little sister too. She came here. She has never asked me about them, not once! Give her a few more years and she will be one of the best. » The large Russian man gave a hearty laugh. It was the only time he talked about her parents, and she stored it in her mind, information to be used at a later date.

The Master was all about information. He said anything that came out of a person's mouth could be used against them. Their posture could reveal more about them then anything. Their tone of voice could be used to determine exactly what they would do. He taught her to be observant.

But he wasn't the only teacher. Natalia had several. Many were faceless burly men, that pushed and pulled her until she wanted to cry. They were the punishers, they hit her when she did not do something right. Then there were the other Daughters, who taught her to wield different weapons. Already, she was good with a knife and with a spear. She could defeat any other girl her age, and even a few of the older ones. Sometimes, one of the older Daughters disappeared. Nothing was ever said. It didn't take Natalia too long to figure out that they had died. Either killed on a mission, or at the hand of the Master himself, they were gone and they could not help her anymore.

Natalia was a very skilled girl. But she was also determined not to die. She did not want to become lifeless, like the many she had watched. That seemed like an easy goal. She had seen several girls die. She had seen grown men and women die. She supposedly had heard her own parents die. But she did not want to die. So, she trained as hard as she could, until all her muscles hurt and she could barely move. She did exactly what the Master told her. When she screwed up, she never screamed when she was beaten. She knew that people who screamed often ended up dead. So she never opened her mouth as a handler hit her. Sometimes it was with a bat or a whip. Sometimes it was only with his bare fists.

After a beating was always the Doctor. Maybe somewhere else in the world, Doctor meant someone who healed. This particular doctor was one that the Master had found. He had developped a cream that rendered any wound or scar tissue practically invisible. It healed skin perfectly. Apparently it was important for her to be flawless. It did not matter than the cream seared her flesh like the seven hells. It made tears esacpe her eyes and she bit her tongue until it bled and he had to put cream there too.

But it meant that Natalia had not one scar to show for the treatments she had. At least on her skin. Her outer layer was perfect, soft, creamy whiteness that she heard the Master talking about to one asian man with relish.

The training center where she lived was a place most would probably hate. It was usually dark, and had very few windows. Natalia was almost sure a lot of it was underground. There were dormatories, where the Daughters slept, and washed. There were the suites for the finished Daughters, ones that had earned favour with the Master and were fully accomplished. There were rooms for the Doctor. All these were connected by dark hallways Natalia could navigate easily. And Natalia supposed there must be rooms for the Master as well, but she had never seen those rooms. And then there was the training room.

It was at the bottom of a set of stairs, a large rectangular room with a high ceiling, and dim lights. The Master said it was because they would probably never fight in a well lit area. The room was divided into sections. One, almost half the size of the room, had various weapons on the wall, and was used to train the girls to use each and every one of them. It had a boxing ring, and usually a handler or two to watch over it. Next was what one of the other Daughters had called the seduction room. It was where the Daughters, when they reached their early teens, were taught to « use their assets to attract targets » or that was what the Daughter had told Natalia. It was a rather nice section. She had not yet been trained for it, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she was.

There were two other parts to the training room. The first was a pit. Ten feet deep, it was a hole in the ground, that the Master used on occasion when he had several clients coming in. All the Daughters were to watch while two selected Daughters (usually two the Master wanted to sell, or get rid of) fought to the death. The clients always cheered. The Daughters always watched in silence and the blood always flowed into the drain set in the center of the floor. Natalia remember watching her first fight. She hadn't understood why the other girl was not getting up. Neither girl was seen again. In the end, Natalia understood. One girl was killed and the other was sold. The pit was the entertainement given with their skills.

The last section was the worst. It was the one Natalia hated the most, and the one she did everything she could to avoid. There, handlers were given free reign to beat the girls. She had been in there twice so far. The doctor's rooms were right off it, and one could always hear a girl scream from there, no matter where else in the training room you were. The handlers, they were the ones in charge of disipline. Unless it was an older Daughter.

Natalia had only seen a punishement like that once. It had been an older girl, at least eighteen, and she had been chained up. The Master himself had come down. Every girl in the room held their breath as he walked to her, and lifted the bat. And he had beat her himself, for hour after hour, until she was unconcious. Natalia had shuttered, and then returned to her hand to hand excercise, determined to never be in that situation.

Along the top of the room, was perhaps another section, though not one any Daughter had entered. It was a viewing area, one that went around the whole room, and allowed a person to see everyone down below. The Master was there, and that is where the clients came. Even from below, Natalia could see the comfort there. The carpet, the soft looking chairs, the smell of cigars. It was the upper looking down on the lower in its most direct meaning.

Training was something she might have enjoyed in another life. It at least felt like she was doing something with herself, to keep herself alive. No matter the weapon in her hands, she wielded it with as much ferocity and skill as she could. At seven years old, she could kill a man in less than thirty seconds with a knife, or gun. She had muscles that clung to her small frame and she had a fieryness when she attacked that made the Master smile every time.

That was Natalia's life. She slept in the dorms. She trained in the training room. She forced herself to be the best she could be, in the hope of not dying. And she did what the Master ordered her to do.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you to everyone who has alerted this fic!

Disclaimer: I tried to trade my marshmallows for BlackWidow. Stan Lee didn't go for it. So Marvel has still got her.

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With every fiber of her being, Natalia concentrated. Her opponent was a handler, three time her small nine year old size. She could not warp her arms around his middle. He bore down on her as she dodged his first three punches. The last found its mark and she fell with a hard thump on the mat.

The older Daughter glared at the handler, making him back off with her eyes alone. Striding forward, she pulled Natalia back to her feet. Her name was Irina. She was the best hand to hand fighter Natalia had seen, and therefore, Natalia had done everything to be selected to train with her. Irina proved to be a hard teacher.

« Your thighs are the strongest part of your body. They are the biggest muscle you have. Use them. Watch. » With a wave of her hand, the handler went at her. Natalia watched as she lept up, caught the man's head between her thighs before twisting hard and forcing him to the ground. The handler did not get up. Natalia glanced up at Irina.

« Teach me. » she said, determination lighting up her face.

For the next hour, Natalia hit the mat more times than she had ever had in one day before. She struggled to get her body high enough. Irina had her jumping as high as she could. When it proved not to be high enough, she showed Natalia a little trick by using the arm of her opponent as a stepping stone on her way to the neck.

By the end of the day, Natalia hurt everywhere, but she successfully took down a handler over six feet tall. While he did not get knocked out, Irina gave her a few quick excercises to strengthen her thighs. Every day, Natalia practiced. She modified the move ever so slightly to manage snapping the neck when she twisted, if she got the angle right. It became her signature move. The Master smiled whenever she used it. And when the Master was pleased, Natalia knew she would live just a little bit longer.

The next day was one of the big ones for Natalia. Several clients of the Master's were in, and he seemed determined to put on a good show. He decided on three match ups in the pit. And the first was to be Natalia against a newer girl. For that, she was thankful. She felt a little like the Master wanted her to win. Just a little.

As Natalia was given her weapon (a single tiny dagger), she swallowed and stared up at the people watching. The clients were observing her as the Master presented her. There were at least eight or nine of them. And then there were the Daughters. Almost seventy girls, most of them young, but a few older, watching with cold unfeeling eyes. Across from her was her opponent, and that made Natalia swallow hard.

Though she was newer than Natalia, she was older, by at least a year, not to mention being taller and bigger. Her blond hair glinted in the light and her brown eyes watched Natalia's movements nervously. Determination stired in her stomach. She was going to win. And if she didn't, it didn't matter because she would be dead.

A gong sounded, and the clients were hollering and cheering. Two of them were waving money around. She quickly blocked them out. Focusing on the task at hand, she eyed the girl opposite from her. And she saw her opening.

Twisting through the air, she moved as fast as she could, her foot connecting with the other girl's wrist, effectively disarming her. The girl looked scared now. She tried throwing a punch and kick, both of which Natalia dodge before counterattacking, her knife tight in her grip, and feeling it dig into the girl's flesh. She was rewarded with a screaming, and a step back.

The girl stared at her, anger in her eyes now. Ripping the knife out of her own thigh, she started advancing on Natalia. Dodging the first few attacks, the other girl landed a hit of her own, and Natalia did all she could to not think about the pain. Pain was dangerous. It could overcome her mind, cloud her senses and kill her.

She kick with her injured leg, kicking the knife out of her opponents hand. And with not a second of hesitation, she lept up, wrapped her legs around the girl's head and twisted hard.

She fell. She fell and tried to get up, slowly. Natalia landed neatly, and grabbed the girl's discarded knife, lifting the girl's head by her hair.

She looked up at the Master just then. He was wearing a pleased smile, just hidden behind his large beard. She had won, she thought as she slid the knife along the girl's throat. She did not think about the fact she had taken the girl's life. Chances were she would have died anyway. Natalia knew chances were not in her favor to live too; more girls died than lived in this place. Those that did were the very best. She had bought another day with another's life. But the Master was pleased. And as the blood soaked the ground and the girl's head fell forward, never to rise, Natalia stood and walked out of the pit. She did not limp. She ignored the burning, until she could not feel anymore. Not the pain. Not anything.

The doctor patched her up with his magic balm, and it burnt more than Natalia had ever felt. But the next day, there was nothing to say that Natalia had been in a fight to the death. There was nothing on the girl training her heart out to say that she had taken a life. She hid everything deep and well.

She hated the doctor. Only someone as sadistic and evil as him could wear a smile on his lips as he transported body after body out of the training room. She had honestly thought that she could not dislike someone more.

And then he had gotten a partner.

This doctor, more of a scientist apparently, was called Dr. Veselov. She had seen him for the first time wandering the gallery with the Master as they talked in hushed voices. She had made her way to a very specific spot, with her nunchucks, and continued her excercises. She had learnt, quite by accident, that the accoustics allowed her to listen to a conversation from this exact place without fear of being caught. And so she used it to gain information, to gain an edge. It had allowed her to win her last two fights. The Master had been discussing the strengths and weaknesses of her opponents, as well as herself. She had listened to his words and used them to her advantage, making the kill in under a minute.

This doctor however, seemed to be kissing the Master's ass. He was watching the young girls in the room, with a solid, observing eye.

« My experiments have led to several different results. Some I am sure you would be interested in. » he was saying, as Natalia swung the metal around her shoulder.

« What exactly are the effects you want to acheive? I don't want my Daughters exposed to something that could harm them. » It took all her concentration not to crack a smirk at that. What a lie. The Master constantly put them all in dangerous situations, on an almost daily basis. She had been here for nearly ten years. She would have the scars to prove it, if it were not for the Doctor's burning concotion.

« Things like speed. Muscle mass. Reaction times. Senses. These can all be sharpened. Also pheromones. I understand your girls use their... assets... to their advantage. » she could hear a slippery sound as Dr. Veselov licked his lips.

« Indeed. My Daughters are the best. I am willing to give it a try. Pick three. They will be your subjects. » Veselov looked over the moon, until the Master leant in and added « If you fail, don't bother looking for a way out. »

That evening had been her first injection. She had been hauled away from her supper by a handler, and sent to a new room, one that smelled of disinfectant. It pinched Natalia's nose, but she stood stoically, and did as she was told. Dr. Veselov was staring at all of her, all but her face, but it did not make her nervous. She used her information to her advantage. Even though she had not been told what was going to happen, she still knew.

Once she was tied into a chair, it was several more moments of pacing and fiddling before he approached her with a needle. She did not wince. She did not shutter. Other twelve year olds might have screamed and kicked and bit. She sat in perfect silence, still as a rock, commanding her body.

When he leant over and injected the strange reddish liquid into the vein of her arm, she held so still, he made a comment about how the bonds might not have been necessary.

And then the freezing started. She felt as though ice had been pumped into her very skin. She tried to hold still, but a shiver escaped. At least it was not a scream, she thought, mentally trying to push away the cold. Being Russian, she had had her fair share of experience in the cold. But this was different. This cold was INSIDE her.

Dr. Veselov sat across from her and watched as she did all she could to stop shivering, and to keep from screaming out as the cold pushed itself from her skin to her very core. She could no longer feel her fingers or toes, and she wasn't sure if it was from clenching them too hard, or from the serum in her body.

An hour later, when she began to think that the cold would be a part of her for good, and she had not uttered a sound, nor moved more than a shiver, Dr. Veselov untied her and told her to go to bed. She did, running in the vain hope that it would warm her up.

That night sleeping was painful to say the least. She shivered hard under the blankets, but did not get any warmer.

By morning, she had determined that the cold in her blood was here to stay. So without wincing once, she dressed and went to train, letting the cold take over her body, as long as it didn't slow her movments.

She did not notice her speed until the Master ordered all the Daughters to run around the circle several times.

She had not been a particularly fast girl, though she trained hard to be. She had always been in the middle of the pack, even as she sprinted to get ahead.

Not today.

It felt like always, running, but her muscles could move faster. She was at the front of the pack and pulling away, before they had even completed one lap. That was when she saw Dr. Veselov in the gallery, with the Master. He had a masterful smile on his face. She looked behind her and saw that while she was fastest, two other girls, Anya and Svetlana, were only a few feet behind her. She looked down at her moving legs, and tried to comprehend, but didn't. She was faster.

Veselov waited two weeks until his next experiment. This time, she was a little curious to see what effect it would have. The serum, this time a horrible yellow color, was injected, but all she felt was sleepy. As if he had injected a knockout, rather than a performance enhancing drug.

That night, she had slept better and deeper than ever before.

That was the only thing she noticed with that particular serum. It was not a change the Master noticed, or that affected her performance in the training room. It was a deeper enhancment than that. He had given her the ability to sleep well.

She considered that . It was not necesarily an improvment, more of a risk. A person was vulnerable when sleeping. And deeply could mean a death sentence.

However it proved to be otherwise. She slept deeply, but her sixth sense was always engaged. When a handler snuck into her dorm and held a knife to her throat, she woke up without warning and had his own knife burried in his chest before she was fully awake. While the kill had been performed on nothing more than instinct and training, the fact that she had woken up when she needed was enough assurance that sleeping was not dangerous for her anymore.

Anya was not so lucky. She did not sleep in the same dorm as Natalia, but she did not appear again at training, nor did Natalia ever see her again. She wondered if it was the serum or the handler that had killed her.

Week after week, experiment after experiment. Veselov was impressing the Master. More and more girls were getting serum injections. Not all the girls, she noticed. Only the really promising girls. But Natalia could not complain about the treatements. They were giving her every edge she needed to survive. To make the Master happy. And for that she found herself ever so slightly grateful, despite the pain she endured from his hands.

Her muscles did not grow bigger, but they did grow stronger. She was able to lift more weight. Her hair got redder. This one she wasn't sure was entirely because of the serums, or because of puberty. She was never told what enhancement wsa being used. But Natalia noticed her hair becoming more vibrant, everywhere on her body. Her night vision also improved. The dim light of the gym was not such a disadvantage anymore. Men, the handlers especially, were looking at her with dialated pupils a lot more. Her reaction times, already trained to be as fast as they could, became even faster.

It was several months after her last treatement that she noticed the Master not being happy. She immediately wanted to know why. If he was mad at her, she needed to prepare. But from her secret eavesdropping spot, she heard him talking to a handler about Veselov's recent work.

« He has not injected a girl in a month. What else has he got coming? »

The handler stayed silent. She assumed it was one of the thugs that had lost his tongue somewhere, or he was smart enough not to answer. The Master did not care and continued his monologue.

« If he does not give us something by the end of the week, end him. »

She could only assume the handler had nodded, and the last thing she heard were angry footsteps leading away.

Natalia never did see Veselov again. In total only she and three other girls had been given every single injection. Most of the others had only gotten three or four of them. And none of the newer girls would get them.

She was thankful. It meant she had an edge younger girls would not have. As horrible as it was, it was an advantage to exploit. She did it shamelessly, knowing it was the only way she was going to survive.

A birthday as one of Drakov's daughters was not anything special. There were no cakes or presents. There was only an acknowledgement that you had lived one more year.

Until her thirteenth that is.

That morning, an older Daughter had been assigned to her. Yuliana was one of the oldest girls there, nearing her twenty fifth birthday, and easily the prettiest one the Drakov had kept for himself. She had ebony hair that fell in perfect soft waves without effort, no matter how much she trained or how she tied it up. Her eyes were forever changing, sometimes green, sometimes blue. She took Natalia down to a room she had never seen. It was a large spa like room, with a bath, sweetsmelling soaps and lotions, scrubs and soft fluffy towels. For one wild moment, Natalia wondered if she was dreaming, before remembering that she did not dream anymore.

As Yulianna went around the room turning on the faucet of the tub and grabbing a towel, she began speaking to her, in a serious voice that made Natalia listen very carefully.

« Tonight is the most important night of your training. Your first time.» Natalia felt her brow crease and she forced herself to correct it before Yulianna noticed. "A man will come for you tonight. You have parts of you that are interesting to him. You will pleasure him. And the Master will reward you." she began removing Natalia's training clothes.

"What must I do?" Natalia asked, standing still as she was stripped down.

"First, we get you clean and dressed. Then I will teach you what to say, and do." As Natalia lowered herself into the tub and Yulianna scrubbed her within an inch of her life, she listened to the older girl talk.

"You know men are made differently from women. They have different parts, like pieces of a puzzle. When men want to solve the puzzle, they must find a woman. And a... an act occurs between them. It leaves men in a very vulnerable state. This is why the Master want you to learn this." Yulianna said as she rubbed shampoo through Natalia's red locks. "Your puzzle has never been solved and your first time is important. Men like being the first. The men this week, in the gallery, they were watching you and one of them will pay to be your first."

Natalia simply nodded. She was not as naïve as Yuliana seemed to think she was. Still, it was not something Natalia knew yet how to do. It was a lie to say she was as calm as she looked; nervousness was chewing at her stomach. She hoped that Yuliana would be an appropriate teacher.

As she dressed into a small skirt, white blouse and small flats, Yuliana then took her to an adjacent room which was dominated by a large bed.

"The Master will be watching. So be very careful about your emotions. You cannot show fear. But if you show pleasure, that is a good thing. Your man will also be pleased. I'm going to walk you through everything that will happen. But you must be ready. Each man likes it different. Do not be surprised. Just go with it." Yuliana then proceeded to show Natalia how to enter, what to say, and a little more about her anatomy.

For several hours, Natalia soaked up as much knowledge about sex as she could. When evening finally came, she was as ready for her ordeal as she could be.

That evening, Natalia entered a new room to find her client waiting for her. He was tall and rather handsome, with nearly black hair and eyes to match. She thanked what ever gods that might be out there that he was not too old, maybe thirty or so. Standing in the corner of the room, in a forest green robe, a smile playing on his lips, he looked up when she entered.

"Hello." he said softly taking her in. His voice was a lot higher than she had expected. Yuliana had dressed her in a short dressing black gown and nothing else. Her still developing curves were accented by a red belt tie with a bow. She looked at him shyly as Yuliana told her - chin down, eyes up, hands behind back and one ankle gently scratching the other - before introducing herself.

"My name is Natalia, sir."

"And I am Pyotr, my dear. Please." he motioned her forward, handing her a flute of champagne.

"I understand that this is your first time. Indulge me." She took it, a small smile playing on her lips, forcing panic back down. Yuliana had not covered drinks, she had just said to go along with whatever he did. He held his own glass out, so she touched her glass to his, and she watched as he took a small sip. She copied him. He gave her a smile, revealing crooked but white teeth, and she hoped he was pleased.

"Come," he said, gesturing to the bed. "Lets begin our adventures." She had started to think that he was kind then. He seemed to be trying to make her comfortable, but Natalia did not let her guard down. Granted, she never did.

Natalia climbed onto the bed, joining Pyotr, lying on his side across the soft sheets. He lifted a finger to her chin and placed his lips on hers. Strange, she thought. She tried to think of the last time she had been kissed. Probably before her parents had died. The man kissed her softly, letting her respond. Yuliana had taught her to kiss, puckering her lips just right, and letting him open her lips and slip his tongue in.

That was when everything changed.

Suddenly, his lips were not soft, but biting her bottom lip hard. His hands were demanding, not caressing, as they grabbed her wrists and pushed her into the mattress. She felt a flicker of fear, and did all she could to not let it pass on her face. She commanded her body not to react, not to lash out, not to even shutter at his dual personality. She was aware that he was holding both her small hands in one of his, and the other was pulling apart the belt of her dressing gown, revealing the smooth skin of her young body. The hand began grabbing at her developing breasts, before dipping further down. He leered a smile at her reaction, his eyes black and sparkling. She felt him push a finger into her core, and Yuliana had already given her the desired response. She inhaled with her mouth open, closing her eyes. All she wanted to do was scream. Her body was not hers. It never was. She commanded it, and it obeyed her. Her reactions were not natural, they were acted.

"You like that, dirty little girl?"

She did not answer. Yuliana told her to wait until she had more experience before trying talking in bed. It was important to know your target before using your words as a tool.

His finger was plunging in and out of her, and her body was getting slightly used to it. Then he pulled his finger out of her, and sat up on his knees, removing his robe as he did so. A moment later he was back, and this time is was not his finger pressing into her, but something much bigger. She put all her concentration into not screaming, or lash out. She knew she could snap the man's neck before he had time to move. But she also knew that if she did that, she would be dead within the hour.

As he slid into her, her nerves were screaming in pain, but she did not move, only closing her eyes tightly and letting him move within her. She concentrated on her breathing to get through. Inhale. Exhale. He did not seem to want a rhythm. He plunged and surged erratically and his heavy pants washed over her. Inhale. Exhale. She kept her eyes squeezed shut. And she waited.

What felt like an eternity later, he gave a large grunt, and relaxed falling on top of her, crushing her. Though she could barely breathe and she felt like her entire body was a house of cards in a breeze, she remembered Yuliana's words, and stroked the man's black hair. For several minutes, they both lay there, each wrapped up in their minds. Then he lifted off her. Pulling out of her, he got out of the bed, put on the robe again, and left. Natalia allowed herself to give a relieved sigh. She had done it. resting only a moment longer on the bed, she gathered her thoughts and ignored the stabbing pain in her core, before getting her robe back on and leaving the room as well. She had mastered her reactions during sex. It was easy now to hide pain, to force it down, to ignore it completely. One way or another, sooner or later, it went away.

That evening, she was transferred from one dormitory to another. Here, all the girls had had the same experience she had. They had all sold their virginities, and lived to tell the tale. Not that they actually said anything about it. Each one was just like her. They were good, not just at fighting but at hiding and languages, and ignoring their own bodies. Now they were available, Yulianna had explained.

She had told Natalia how it was expensive to keep the academy going; feeding the girls, paying the handlers and the doctor, buying weapons, it all took money. So the Master would let clients buy a girl for a night, so as to fund his center, his academy for young girls. She had passed the hurdle and was now available for sale in the evenings, should a client want her. Yulianna had also said not to worry about it too much. She would not get asked for too much early on, because she was not experienced enough. Not yet anyway.

Natalia had been promoted for lack of a better word. Better sleeping quarters, more work, and a few more days of life.

From then on, she had lessons four time a week in seduction. Yuliana taught her for a while, but then she disappeared, and other girls continued. She learned how to move in a room to attract all the attention of every person in the room, the opposite of which she could do very well already. She learned to move her body to pleasure men until they screamed. She learned all the whores' tricks she could, because men, in their post coital bliss, more often than not, would sell their souls. And if she needed information, using her body was an excellent way to get it.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please alert if you like!


	3. Chapter 3

Forgive me father for I have sinned, it has been way too long since my last update. This chapter did not want to be born. I promise the next one is better.

DIsclaimer: Marvel owns BlackWidow. I own a black window. Sadly not the same.

* * *

Natalia was in the small range with a pair of 9mm pistols in her hands. Focussing on each of her targets in turn (a set of printed men on paper, with targets in each of their weakest points), she fired eighteen rounds exactly, hitting each smaller target, effectively eliminating her opponents and emptying her cartridges. Breathing calmly, she then turned to the small girl standing next to her. Almost ten years old, Marianne was a sweet looking girl, but Natalia had seen her kill two girls in matches within the past few months. At seventeen she was now training younger girls. There was a fierce determination in her.

"Your turn." Marianne raised her guns, determination written on each delicate feature of her face. She took much too long aiming each shot, but she hit seven of the targets on the bullseyes. The rest were very close.

"Faster." Natalia said, handing her two more clips and crossing her arms. Marianne reloaded, and fired again, faster but less accurate.

"Again."

Marianne glared at her.

"What is the trick." She said, not bothering to raise her weapon. Natalia felt a little insulted. This little girl was talking back. She knew she should probably beat her, or tell someone else to beat her. But at the same time, she admired the determination and straightforwardness the girl had.

"There is no trick. Only practice. Take stock of your target quickly and accurately and then let your body control the weapon, knowing rather than seeing their weakest points. This goes for any other type of weapon too, but especially firearms."

Marianne nodded and reloaded to fire again. She took a deep breath and began rapid firing, managing to hit twelve of the eighteen targets.

"Again." Natasha said. "And again and again and again. Even after you succeed the first time, even after you succeed every time. Keep practicing."

Then she heard the call. The Master, up in the balcony, said her name in a fierce strong voice that might have made some want to cower. Indeed, there was a definite tremor in Marianne's posture. Natalia gave a quick smile and turned up to where he stood. Beside him, was a plain man, with dark hair and eyes, but that was all she could see at this point. She lowered her head respectfully, and he nodded back. Probably a new client, she thought.

She was not wrong.

That evening, for the first time ever, the master summoned her to his own rooms. The luxurious place put everything else in the center to shame, making it seem abandoned and disgusting. A cigar between his lips and reclined in a soft looking chair, he looked up as she entered, her hands behind her back.

"I have a very specific request for you."

She nodded once to show she understood and was listening.

"A man has shown interest in you. However, he is not yet able to afford a talent such as yours." Natalia knew immediately it was the man she had seen earlier today. "I think his investment is a good one, he may be able to reward us down the road. Therefore your order is to spend time with him. But do not fuck him."

This was an unusual request. She was in fact fairly certain that no Daughter had ever done such a thing. Natalia looked upon it as a challenge she would conquer.

"Make him want you, please him in any way, but the final act. I want to keep his interest here, so that when he has made his millions, he will return. You can look on it as an investment for yourself. If he is to succeed in his endeavours, there is a good chance he will buy you permanently."

Natalia gave another nod. She wondered what this man will be like, what he will want. If he would force her into sex, or if he would be more of the respectful type. She had had quite a few of both.

* * *

She prepared carefully for her evening. She wore underwear, a tight but conservative dress, and just the right amount of make up to show she cared. She made her way down and waited for the man to call her into the usual room.

An hour later, he finally did and she entered. He had asked for a table and a meal for the two of them. The rest of the room was as it always was, dressed up richly and dominated by a large bed. In the corner stood her target, her client. The man was rather small, barely taller than her, and at least twenty years older than her. He wore a kind smile, that revealed his white teeth, but did not reach his green eyes. His finely coiffed blond hair could have made him attractive, once upon a time. She took a calculated swallow, trying to look a little nervous and greeted him in the usual fashion, even if there was nothing usual about this date.

"I am Natalia" she said in Russian. She could only guess, since the Master had not told her which language to use, but her guess turned out to be a lucky one.

"Anton Manyakin, at your service. Please," He pulled on of the chairs before the table out, gesturing for her to sit. She did, careful to curve her back gracefully, watching him give a nervous swallow, before sitting down opposite her.

"I saw you practising with knives earlier today" he said silkily picking up his fork and taking a bite of the fish in front of him. Natasha nodded and copied him, out of sheer reflex. She felt a little off balance talking about herself.

"Every weapon must be practiced with. To stay sharp and ready." She said as smoothly as she could. She watched him lick his lips and knew he already wanted her. Now she just had to keep his interest.

"Indeed, I admire your skills, Natalia. Which is your favorite I wonder?" She thought hard about her answer, trying to avoid revealing too much about herself and still be believable.

"I enjoy guns and knives best. Guns are always fast, and effective are knives are reliable." She said cautiously. He gave her a small smile, and again, she noticed it did not quite reach his eyes.

"I see, I must admit I do not know how to use either. It must be why I admire you so much."

For the next hour, he continued to ask questions about her and she made her life as interesting as possible without actually saying anything. He wanted to know every detail about her life, her routines, her training and the other Daughters she interacted with.

"I have enjoyed this evening very much. I hope I get to see you again." Natalia smirked a little thinking he was the first man that had ever actually wanted to see her again. Then again, most of them ended up dead, and couldn't say anything.

"I feel the same way."

* * *

From then on Anton would spend at least one night a week having dinner and talking with Natalia. She used all her trick to keep him drooling, and the Mater was pleased that the man kept coming back. Sometimes he would ask about her, others he would talk about himself, about his childhood or about his business. Natalia balanced on the tightrope to avoid saying too much, and she knew that this was a different skill to hone. She did her best, thinking to subjects to discuss for their dinners. Things that he might like to talk about, things that might keep him in her web. She refused to think that she liked him. It was a weakness, liking someone. But she did find herself looking forward to their evenings together on occasion. Anton could be dull sometimes, but he never actively tried to hurt her.

For nearly six months, Natalia "dated" Anton. Once she accompanied him to a soiree, where the Master threaten to kill her if she did anything she wasn't supposed to. The night had been a scary one, with Natalia thinking that Anton would take her up to his room and she would be forced to kill him. But it seemed Anton had something left of honor, and as the night drew to a close, he put her in a taxi back to the center with a chaste kiss on the cheek. Natalia breathed again.

When the Master called on her again, she knew it was about Anton. He had become her sole project, outside of training. She found the Master exactly as she had the night she had met Anton, sitting in a luxurious chair puffing on a cigar.

"How may I serve the cause." She said softly upon entering. He was puffing rather angrily on his cigar and that made her nervous.

"Manyakin has not moved up. Kill him. He knows too much about us."

She knew she had been dismissed even if he had only said one sentence. She gave a nod and left quickly to prepare for her evening.

It struck her very suddenly that she was about to kill the one person that had shown her even a little kindness in her short life. She also knew that if she refused, she was as good as dead. It still left a sour taste in her mouth as she hid a gun and two knives in her dress, not yet sure which she would use.

That evening, she entered the room a little more nervously than usual. She forced herself to quell the feeling in her stomach. She gave him a small smile. The room was laid out just as usual, the table with hot fancy food for two, candles and wine.

"Good evening Natalia." Right then, Natalia decided to do this one kill quick. Get it over with as fast as she could. She pulled the gun from her thigh and pointed it directly in between his eyes. His expression quickly became frightened, and she paused.

"I'm sorry. I… Could be better for you… but…" his whiny voice did it for it and she pulled the trigger. His head flung back as the bullet entered his skull and he crumbled. Natalia took a deep breath, lowering the gun. It was him instead of her. She was not sorry. She was not sorry. She was not sorry.

The handler came in and picked up the body before there was too much blood on the floor. Natalia made her way firmly back to her dorm, getting into bed clothes, and curling into a ball in her bed.

She had killed the only person who had shown kindness. He had been nice to her, made her feel ok, even if she had always been afraid of showing too much or him losing interest in her. She forced herself to close her eyes and sleep.

* * *

Natalia Romanova woke up as she always did; very suddenly. The room around her was silent but she knew better than to trust it. Her sixth sense, a sense built into every human to detect danger, was ringing alarm bells in her mind and she knew better than to ignore it. As absolutely silently as she could, Natalia, code name Black Widow, reached for the nightstand and grabbed the dagger lying there. With an enormous leap, she jumped on the man crouched at the foot of her matress, the knife held to his jugular.

"What is the matter, Natalia? Don't recognise your master?" Natalia immediately straigtened and let the knife fall to her side. The Master, stood and smiled at her.

"Very well done." he lay a finger on her soft cheek and stroked it gently, but Natalia knew better now than to be fooled by the seemingly kind gesture.

"I will see you downstairs in half an hour." he whispered so only she could hear. And then he left. Natalia did not relax. To be fair, she never relaxed. Having been here since she was three, she had never been allowed to. Relax and you were beaten. Relax and you had your meals taken away. Relax and you were raped. Relax, don't perform to the best of your abilities, and you ended up dead.

She had been here fifteen years, and she had known nothing else of life, but this place. It had hardened her, but that seemed to please her master. She was unafraid, agile, strong and more than willing to do as she was told. She had taken her first life at age nine, in a fight to the death against a girl a year older than her. She had done what it took to survive.

Natalia quickly pulled on clothes; slim, black and fitted to allow full movement. She had done as she had been ordered and had been rewarded as such. With life.

As Natalia walked down the familiar corridors, her guard never letting down, she arrived at the training room. To Natalia, who spent most of her time here, it was familiar, despite the lowlight (because chances were you would not be fighting the enemy in a well lit room), the chains and torture devices on the walls (a constant reminder of what happened when you were caught) and the smell of blood, sweat and vomit (from the victims, the wounded, the weak). She had been worked in this room for fifteen years, proven her salt as a spy, a seductrice, and an assassin.

The Master was standing in the center of the room, she approached him and stared right into his eyes, keeping her expression neutral. It was odd to see him at her level. Usually he was in the gallery. She noted that she was alone. There was not a handler or another Daughter in sight.

"Master"

"My beautiful Russian flower. Or should I say, Spider"

"How may I serve the cause." The words came out, as if they had been programmed there. In a manner of speaking they had

"There is a job that must be done. A mission. A man to eliminate."

She remained silent. This was what she had trained for. She knew, from a very young age, that was where her life was heading. What it would be. She would serve the Master as a spy and an assassin and she would be the best out there, because if she was not, if she dared hope for peace, she was as good as dead.

"The man is a German. He is leaking secrets to the Americans. He must be eliminated." From behind his back, the master produced a folder. He walked forward before handing it to him.

"Your identity, and mission information. Do not fail." He did not need to say more. She knew what happened if she failed.

The man in question was an old German general, who spent his days in a hotel in Moscow. The mission was to kill him in a manner that could pass off for a natural or accidental death. Natalia would pretend to be an escort he hired daily to satify his raging need. Natalia liked that. She liked that men were such simple minded like that. That they could be so easily manipulated by a low cut dress or a show of leg.

Still, as Natalia stepped out of the cab and breathed in the fresh air for the first time in over a year, she had to admit being out of there felt good. Plastering a smile on her face, she greeted the bellboy of the fancy russian hotel. The boy stared at her. Natalia let a small chuckle out. Men and boys were so easily manipulated.

She made her way up the stairs, clutching her fur-trimmed coat around her shoulders. Arriving at the top room, she knocked softly three times as she had been instructed to do, then opened the door. Her target was sitting in a chair, a bottle of vodka open and half empty in his hand.

"Where is Anastasia?" he asked hautily, spittle flying from his mouth. Natalia ordered herself not to flinch. Her body was her tool and she had learnt how to command it. She could control her every reaction, no matter what happened to her.

"She has had an accident" Natalia replied seamlessly. "I am here to replace her."

"And what tricks do you know? A little bird like you, barely out of the shell." Natalia smiled. The man was an easy target.

"Oh, I am sure I have ways to entertain you." She removed her cloak, to reveal her absurdly short dress. The man stared. So easy. So simple. She circled him to crouch at his head, and whisper into his ear "I have much experience to draw on." Not a complete lie. If her first, second and third ways of killing the man before her failed, well, Natalia had about six dozen other ways she could call on. The knife hidden in her shoe. The lamp on the dresser. The tassles holding up the curtains. All weapons she could use should she want. But this kill was supposed to be subtle.

She circled again, before climbing on the general's lap. She smiled as she felt his hard on pressed into her thigh. Men were utterly predictable. She pressed her chest into his and grazed his ear with her teeth, wrapping her arms around his neck, like the loving woman she was pretending to be.

From between her knuckles, she positioned a small air gun against the general's neck. He was too far gone with pleasure to notice the strange shape. As she placed a kiss on the general's earlobe, she pulled the trigger, just above his artery, with the needle and let the poison seep into his veins.

As the man went limp under her fingers, she smiled again. Not a kind or even a real smile. She would not be punished tonight. She would survive to weave another web. It was her talent, her catch. She seduced and then she killed. It was what had earned her her name.

As she straighten and stood, she took in the room for the first time. After her room, and the training hall, she had been precious few places in her life. The bed was large and soft looking, the drapes were gold in color and the walls were adorned with art. She took the bottle of vodka from the floor where it had fallen, and took a swig. Sighing, she came back to reality. Better to leave now, and take the bottle. It was the only thing in the room with her finger prints on it. The only thing that could traced back to her, not that she had a criminal record to begin with. As she exited the room, she turned to the corpse she had just created. She did not regret it. She had read the file up on this man. He was one who deserved to die, and for just once, Natalia had one small hope. She hoped all her next targets would be as easy to kill without regret.

Of course, wishing was for children. And it had been a long time since Natalia had been a child.

Natalia had begun her life as an assassin at age three. Now she was doing it full time. When the Master ordered it, she would leave with a handler, complete the kill as she was ordered and return without fail to the center where she trained.

Life changed in that ever so slight way. Now instead of solely honing her skills, her mind and her body for her destiny, as the Master called it, she was actually performing her duty. She proved herself, just as she had in training to be utterly great at what she did. After all, fifteen years of training, with the reinforcements she had had, made someone either good or dead. So far, Natalia wasn't dead.

It wasn't long before The Master was sending her out on longer missions further and further away. Sometimes she went to warm places, like Mexico, Africa or India. Others times, it would be to ancient cities, where tracking down the target in question could easily take a week. It was nice to be outside. To breath the free air. She was a spy, and assassin. It was the only thing that she had known and should she ever want to leave, the only way would be through death.

Without fail, everytime a target was down, Natalia came back to The Red Room. While she had never known its name until actually leaving the place, she found it made little sense. Most of the things in the building were either black, or brown. The exterior was grey. The training room, while it smelled of blood, blood always dried to brown. And so brown was the prevelent color. Perhaps it was a metaphor for the amount of red blood the place seemed to leak. Perhaps it was a jab at the communism still trying to hold the country. Perhaps it was simply someone's lack of creativity. Natalia did not care. She trained when she wasn't on a mission. She stocked up on weapons before she left and put them back when she came back. She did her job. It was not in her part to ask the questions.

The Master too had a name she had not known in fifteen years. Vladimir Drakoff, he was a secret man, known to most as having an academy for young orphaned girls. Within deeper circles, his name was spoken with fear and his "students" had been dubbed his daughters. That was what Natalia was. One of Drakoff's Daughters, an assassin trained from childhood to take life without remorse or feeling in a thousand different ways. When Natalia overheard the conversations that spoke of Drakoff, she could not help but wonder what else there could be. When one was raised a certain way, away from anything even remotely different, it meant she had no idea how she could have been raised otherwise. The idea of family or siblings or love... that was foreign, a fairytale, something the youngest girls treated themselves with to help them sleep at night. And more often then not, those girls ended up dead.

Between missions, the Master had her seducing men. Some would come and watch her in the gallery, before the Master summoned her to the room where she had lost her virginity. She was then at their mercy, letting them have her in all the ways they wanted. Once or twice, another Daughter had tied her to the bed, because that is what the client wanted. Sometimes, he wanted to beat her too, and she let them. She commanded her body, and hid her reactions better than anyone. She could make a man think he was pleasuring her when all she wanted was to scream in pain, or beat the man into a pulp.

As an accomplished Daughter, it was in her duties now to train new Daughters. It always made her a little unease. These newer, prettier girls would one day make her obsolete. And as soon as that happened, she was as good as dead. But she did what she was told, she taught girls the same moves and tricks and strategies she had learnt herself. It was a horrible endless cycle. There were maybe twenty finished Daughters at a time, to train all the younger ones. There were a lot more younger ones. She had heard one client referring to it as something called Darwinism turned useful. The Master had laughed and agreed.

She refused to get too close to anyone. None of the Daughters, none of the handlers, none of her clients. She did as she was told and walled herself up inside herself to deal with it.

* * *

Whew. Kinda of a filler chapter for now. But things will start getting interesting in a bit!


End file.
